AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“...I don’t want that psycho woman in my house,” Marco says.
“That’s too bad, because she’s going,” says the other voice.
“There has to be someone else’s life you can fuck up.” Marco actually sounds like he’s in pain.
Are they talking about me?
The other man grunts. “Sadly, there isn’t. It’s perfect, you live alone in a house big enough to house a small country…”
I zone out as they keep talking.Of all the nerve!
He then proceeds to list off all of the things that’ll keep me occupied in Marco’s house.
I’m not going anywhere with him!
I’m about to march in there and give them a piece of my mind when someone taps me on the shoulder. I shriek and jump about a mile in the air.
A giant with broad shoulders, a buzzed haircut and dark, hazel eyes glared down at me.
“Are you lost, princess?”
I press myself up against the wall, hoping to slide into it.
“No, I, ugh…was getting some water.” That’s now sloshed all over my white t-shirt that is now transparent.
Still, I give him credit, he doesn’t dip his eyes.
He is kinda cute…
“Seems like you might need a refill.”
I cover my chest, just to be sure, and I’m about to go back upstairs to my dungeon when Marco comes storming out of the office.
He does a double take when he sees us standing there. The giant grabs onto my arm as I try to rush ahead of them. “Not so fast, little Russian,” he says, stopping my dramatic exit.
Marco glares down at me, his eyes thunderous. He gives the other man a chin lift.
“I’ve got it from here, Rocco,” he says, placing his hands on his hips like I’m some errant child.
As the giant called Rocco disappears down the hallway, no doubt back under the rock he just crawled out of, I turn back to Marco.
“Did you let him out of the dungeon too?”
Marco’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing lurking down here?”
“Lurking?” I scoff. “I was getting water.” I wave my empty glass at him as he then chooses to look down at the mess I’ve caused.
His eyes are thunderous as he assesses me from head to toe slowly. I don’t know what he sees but he keeps his expression neutral, like seeing me half naked in a long t-shirt with tiny shorts on is something he sees every day.
He has to be, without any reasonable doubt, the hottest man I’ve ever seen, if I’m being honest.
He stands at around six-four, his hair is longer on top but slicked back off his face; as I say, it's a three-hundred-dollar haircut, and boy does he know it.
His suit is cut from the finest cloth, and even though he’s been wearing it all day and carried me to freedom, there’s barely a wrinkle in the navy-blue fabric.
Even though I hate him, I still find it hard to drag my attention from his masculine form. Especially when he’s glaring down at me like that.
For fucks sake.
